


His Gaze

by Rakshi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rakshi/pseuds/Rakshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah can feel Sean's eyes on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Gaze

I can always feel his eyes on me. They burn like fire.

I try not to look—I just let him fill his eyes with the sight of me because I know he loves it. He doesn’t think I know when he’s staring, and I like the shivery feeling this sends down my spine. I like the tingle at the back of my neck. I like secretly feeling him devour me with the heat of his gaze. Eventually though, the compelling urgency can’t be resisted any longer, and I have to turn and meet his eyes.

I can see him blush from across the room, his quickly lowered eyes, the high flush on his cheeks; all of it gives him away. He’s embarrassed that I’ve caught him. I find his discomfiture endearing. Endearing and… arousing. He needn’t be embarrassed to be caught staring because I always know when his eyes are on me. I’ve never told him that though. And I never will. This is my game. My secret.

And I know what he’s thinking when he stares at me that way. That’s the part that makes me squirm… the part that floods my groin with heat. I know what he’s feeling. I know the images that are dancing across that lightning-quick mind of his. For him, this room and everyone else in it cease to exist. We’re not here, we’re someplace else. Someplace where we can be alone… and naked. And when his eyes narrow and seem to smolder with emerald-gold fire I know what he’s seeing. I’m lying next to him and he’s bending over my body, caressing… kissing… overwhelmed by his need to touch… taste… possess.

He’s always been obsessed with my skin... always. It started innocently enough, just massaging the back of my neck when we’d had a long day. Eventually he worked up the courage to get me alone and ask me if I wanted a back rub. I did, of course, and he gently caressed my naked back for hours. He would have stayed there all night if I’d let him.

And every time it happened I’d hear his breathing grow more and more ragged, and I’d know how it was affecting him. Maybe I should have made him stop, but I couldn’t, because it was affecting me the same way.

I remember the first time I felt his lips press against my back, between my shoulder blades. They were moist and soft against my skin, and then moved quickly away. I pretended to be asleep. He pretended to believe I was asleep. But both of us knew better.

That was the game for awhile; pretending that I was dead to the world while his open mouth explored my bare back, his tongue caressing gently. It was ridiculous, but I loved it. I tried desperately not to squirm or to let my breathing get too staggered, while my dick got harder and harder and harder. The ‘Elijah’s asleep’ pretense didn’t last very long. It couldn’t. What he was doing got us both too damned hot, and eventually I heard him growl “Fuck this! Enough’s enough!” and in a split second he had grabbed my arm and rolled me onto my back.

From that moment to this, he could never get enough. He loves the love. Oh, he’d fuck me all night and adore every minute of it. But that’s not what he really wants deep down. His whole heart and soul are wrapped up in the preamble… the foreplay… the touching, and tasting, and licking, and kissing. He’ll explore my naked body until I’m ready to scream with a need that is nearly incandescent.

And even then he can’t get enough. Not even coming is enough. Five minutes after a soul-deep climax that leaves us both feeling like we’ve been struck by lightning, he’s caressing me again… kissing my nipples, stroking my arm.

Oh yeah, he fucking loves my skin. It’s his drug… his obsession. And that’s why I can feel it when he stares at me that way. That’s why I love it. It’s not the heat. It’s not the sex, because sex isn’t what drives him. That’s why an orgasm is an incidental part of our love-making no matter how intense it may be.

It’s love. I feel the purity of his love touch me through the wonder in his gaze. The desire in his hands and mouth is totally driven by the love that shines out when his eyes are fixed upon me. And that love is what takes me and fills me and lifts me and makes me realize in the deepest recesses of my soul that I will never, ever let him go. And that is my prayer: that I am never so far away from him that I can’t feel his eyes on me, imbued as they always are, with the depth of his love.


End file.
